Moony Magic
by thisbluepeony
Summary: Sirius tries his hand at babysitting. Things do not go to plan.


A banshee's wail rips through the room, and Sirius clamps his hands over his ears, cowering.

_Make it stop. Merlin Almighty, make it_ stop.

His eyes are squeezed shut too. It's a good while before he plucks up the courage to peek out of one. He's still being screamed at.

"Harry," he practically sobs. "Harry, why? Why?"

The baby has been with him for two hours. He hasn't stopped crying for three quarters of that time. No, he isn't crying. He's screaming. Yelling. _Wailing_ as though his sixth-month old heart depends on it, as though the earth shall surely shatter if he stops.

Sirius doesn't know how to tell him that it _really_ won't shatter. It's perfectly fine for him to stop. It is perfectly. Fine.

Relentless tears are streaming down the small, chubby face. Harry's getting snot all over the sofa cushion Sirius attempted to sooth him with previously. And the blanket. And the stuffed dragon. In fact, everything Sirius attempts to sooth Harry with has been thoroughly snotted, including his favourite shirt.

Sirius thinks he'll allow all of his shirts to be thrown into a vast ocean of mucus if it means getting Harry to just be quiet, just for five bloody minutes.

He doesn't understand. Harry's normally fine with Sirius. He _likes_ Sirius, but apparently only when his parents are there as well, to ease away any anxiety the baby may possess. It seems Harry cannot enjoy zooming broomstick noises and being lifted up into the air countless times (Sirius is the only one out of him, Remus, James and Lily who can keep this up the longest, in order to appease Harry's demanding nature) without his mum and dad present too.

Harry is supposed to be a smart baby. The health visitor told Lily he has the brain of a twelve-month-old. So why doesn't he understand that Lily and James are coming back later? At least, Sirius assumes that's what it is, because he's tried everything else. Harry isn't hungry or thirsty. He won't lay down for a nap. He doesn't want a cuddle. He doesn't want his toys or his tambourine rattle or his book charmed to make animal noises. He's just being bloody difficult!

"Harry," Sirius tries again. He's tried putting Harry all over the place - rocking him in the cool hallway, lying on the soft couch, sitting propped up in the warm kitchen - and now he has him splayed out on the living room floor, kicking his fat little legs and sending his socks flying.

"Cease!" Sirius wails helplessly, hands reaching up to scrunch in his hair. "Cease and desist!"

For one moment - one glorious, heart-stopping moment - Harry pauses. He blinks up at Sirius with huge, glistening green eyes. He's stopped. He's stopped! Thank beautiful bearded Merlin, he's stopped. Talking to him like an adult has actually _worked_. Well, Sirius thinks smugly, it must be a welcome relief after Lily's constant goo-goo-ga-ga talk. Harry doesn't have time for any of that nonsense. Harry is clearly an intellec -

"GuhRAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Sirius groans, fingers sliding back into his hair as he begins to rock himself like a madman. He can't take it anymore. He's a smart guy. Dammit, he's a tough guy. He became homeless at sixteen. His wizarding skills are _famous_. He tracks down and pummels The Ultimate Enemy for a job.

But hand him an angry, chubby little ball of limbs that won't stop bawling? He's done for. He slowly starts to turn mad. In fact, he might already have _gone_ mad. He is rocking after all, making weak, incoherent noises of protest. Yes, he is mad. Sirius Black has succumbed to the deadly powers of Harry Potter. Maybe, he reasons, this is why Bellatrix, the eldest of his cousins, is so much more mentally deranged than Narcissa and Andromeda. Surely growing up in a house with not one but _two_ of these hollering horrors is enough to push anyone over the edge. Sirius is all ready to suffocate himself then and there.

Instead, he flails around on the carpet, reaches for his wand and desperately casts a Silencing spell on his godson.

He feels awful. It's not like it's made Harry better. But in the battle between morals and desperation, desperation has won. Sirius is not afraid to admit that; Harry has defeated him. Take it no longer can he. He drops his wand with a shaky hand and lets out a long, soothing breath.

Harry's red face turns even redder.

"Okay. Alright. I've made you mad. That was a bad idea. I'll - I'll lift the spell when I've had time to calm down," Sirius promises.

Harry starts to turn purple.

"Alright, I'll lift it now!" In a wave of wand, the room is flooded with the sounds of a thousand tortured souls once more. Sirius makes a strange, strangled choking noise and keels over.

And then, wonderfully, a noise he recognises merges with the fiery demon chanting. A loud _crack!_ sounds from behind the front door, and Sirius suddenly feels weak with relief rather than madness. Above Harry's yells, he can just about hear the opening and closing of the door. Then Remus comes in.

"Moony," Sirius pants, practically weeping with joy. "Make it stop. Please, Merlin, Moony, Mandrake, Marauder's bastarding Map, every other M in the history of - mmm_making_ babies stop - their - crying ..." He collapses in a heap at Remus's feet.

"That's what you've been reduced to, is it?" Remus says drily, though he's panting slightly, as though he's out of breath. "Reciting every word you can think of from A to Z in the hopes of finding the trigger word to make Harry be quiet?"

He steps between Sirius and the baby.

"What have you done to him?"

"Nothing!" Sirius wails. "He was fine for about half an hour, and then he just started crying for _no reason_ and he won't stop. I've tried everything. I've tried ... I've tried ..." His voice trails off as it becomes oddly louder in the room.

When he turns he realises it's because Harry has finally stopped yelling.

"Oh!" Sirius cries, too relieved to be jealous. Remus is rocking Harry gently in his arms, and Harry is rubbing at his eyes and sniffing, but no longer crying. Not anymore. Sirius scrambles to his feet, standing to look over Remus's shoulder. "How...?"

"There we go," Remus says gently, allowing Harry to wrap his tiny hand around one of his long fingers. "Shh..."

Sirius can't believe it. Harry is practically turning to goo in Remus's arms. How is that even possible? Harry has always liked Sirius. He's always liked Remus too, but whenever Lily and James bring him round, it's Sirius he holds his arms out for. So how? Why? What sort of magic is this?

"Moony magic," Sirius breathes, and Remus turns his head slightly to look at him and smiles. For a moment they stare down at the near-sleeping Harry like proud parents. Miraculously, when Harry sees Sirius, he even offers him a tiny, tired smile.

But then Remus is carefully, carefully, holding the baby out to Sirius.

"No, what - what are you doing?" Sirius babbles. "Remus, no, stop this nonsense. Stop!" The baby is pushed into his arms anyway.

"I've got to go again. I only came back to pick something up," Remus says quietly, so as not to disturb the now-sleepy baby. He turns on his heel and goes off into another room, and Sirius is torn between following him to beg him to stay, and keeping his feet rooted to the spot so that Harry doesn't open his eyes and realise he's now in the wrong person's arms.

When Remus returns holding a bag with whatever it is he requires stashed inside, he gives Sirius a sympathetic smile.

"Moony, think about this," Sirius hisses in a low whisper. "I won't forgive you if you leave again. You don't understand. I can't handle another two hours, I can't."

"He'll be fine," Remus whispers back. "Look, he's practically fallen asleep."

He comes to give Sirius a kiss on the cheek. Then he turns to leave. He's actually serious. He's actually leaving.

"You'll be sleeping on the couch," Sirius warns, as Remus exits into the hallway. "You'll never see me naked again. I'll go and live in the forest. No, _you'll_ go and live in the forest. I'm changing the locks. If you leave now, I swear, Moony, I'm changing the locks, I'm -"

Remus is out of the door, gone in the whirl of a harsh crack.

"Come back!" Sirius begs to the empty air. "He likes your face!"

Sure enough, not two minutes pass before Harry's eyes snap open, and he sees the wrong face looking down at him. Sirius's features are twisted into an expression of utter panic. He's _so_ sure he catches a mischievous glint in Harry's bright eyes, before the baby opens his tiny mouth once more and lets out a most tremendous cry.


End file.
